


Squeeze

by Living_Underground



Series: 219 [3]
Category: The X-Files
Genre: 219, Episode: s01e03 Squeeze, F/M, Female Masterbation, Smut, Vaginal Fingering, heartfelt conversations about sex, post episode
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-16
Updated: 2021-02-16
Packaged: 2021-03-17 22:40:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,944
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29479347
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Living_Underground/pseuds/Living_Underground
Summary: Post ep for Squeeze, Scully finds herself panicking after Tooms invaded her apartment and calls Mulder over. He keeps her company, and talks her through some stuff. Sexy time ensues.
Relationships: Fox Mulder/Dana Scully
Series: 219 [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2028634
Kudos: 31





	Squeeze

**Author's Note:**

> Whilst all the works in this series are one shots, this one and Deep Throat are in the same universe, so go check that chapter out first. It's probably not strictly necessary, but it might be best. 
> 
> It's 3am and I'm supposed to be writing my dissertation right now but I wrote this instead. It's not great, but its better than the dissertation.

‘You want to stay at mine tonight?’

‘I’m fine, Mulder. I told you.’

They were tidying her bathroom, straightening upturned jars and sweeping spilt bath salts. The VCU had left, Tooms chained up and under constant observation, and after the activity of the evening, her apartment was disturbingly still and quiet, whilst her body still buzzed with adrenaline. She knew that as soon as she took a shower, dried her hair and fell into bed the shock of the day would catch up with her and she was staving that off for as long as possible, lingering over lining up bottles and levelling piles of towels. Mulder, she feared, could sense it too.

‘I don’t mind, really. You can even have my couch – a very high honour.’ She raised a sceptical eyebrow. ‘What? It is. Much more comfortable than the armchair.’

‘What about the bed?’

He grinned, ‘why Scully, are you coming on to me?’

‘What? No!’ her cheeks pinked furiously, ‘no, I just…all I meant was…I…I figured I would be more honoured if you gave up your bed for me. That’s all I meant by it, really.’

He chuckled disarmingly and nodded, ‘I know, I was just teasing. But, uh, I would be giving up my bed for you.’

‘You just offered me your couch.’

‘Exactly. My couch doubles as my bed.’

‘Mulder, that’s ridiculous,’ she scoffed, staring at him disbelievingly, ‘you can’t sleep on your couch every night, it’s bad for your back.’

‘I don’t sleep on it every night. I sleep on it whenever we’re in town. I don’t see the point in a bed if we’re spending half our lives in motels across the country.’

‘But how do you-‘ she looked down, her blush deepening, and shook her head as she focused on making sure that the hand towel and bath towel were level, ‘-doesn’t matter.’

‘How do I what?’

‘It’s not important, forget it.’

‘No, I want to know.’

She huffed, turned to him, ‘fine. How do you share?’

‘Now why would I want to share, Agent Scully?’

Hand combing through her tangled hair, eyes scanning the bathroom, she shook her head, ‘doesn’t matter. I think we’re done here,’ an end to the conversation. She shouldn’t be embarrassed, she knows that. The rational half of her brain reminds her that she was in his motel room the other week giving him head. But the memories of him hot and hard in her hands and mouth only make her flush a darker red. He gave a sober nod, watched as she cracked her neck, stifled a yawn, tried to hide any embarrassment she felt. ‘Thank you for your help, Mulder. I’ll see you at work.’

And like that he was dismissed, walked to the front door with a tired, half-there smile. He wasn’t certain he wanted to leave her, not after the evening she’d had. But she was insistent and he didn’t want to overstay his welcome. So he left with one final invite to call him if she needed anything, fully expecting she wouldn’t take him up on the offer.

* * *

‘Mulder? It’s me,’ her fingers were trembling as she worried the phone cord, thumbnail scraping at the plastic casing of the receiver.

‘Hey, Scully, you okay? What’s wrong?’

‘I, uh…’ she paused, staring at the dark doorway to her bathroom, ‘can you come over? Please?’

‘Sure. Give me twenty minutes. Do you need me to bring anything?’

‘No, just you. I guess I’m not used to feeling unsafe in my own home.’

He sighed on the other end of the line and she heard the thud of a table as he wobbled into it in his haste to pull his shoes on, ‘I’m sorry, Scully. I’ll be over as quickly as possible.’

Whilst she was waiting for him she turned on all the lights, checked the locks on all the windows and barricaded every vent she could find – screw the consequences. She knew Tooms was locked up under guard, knew that she would be called if he had escaped, but that didn’t make her feel any more comfortable.

He made it in fifteen, knocking on her door with a ‘Scully, it’s me.’ She’d leapt from her couch, deadbolt snicking open and the handle banging against the wall in her haste to not be alone in her apartment. She barrelled into him, burying her face in his soft, t-shirt clad chest, taking a moment to cling to him for dear life, before drawing back and sniffing, inviting him in with a wave of her hand.

‘I’m being stupid, really, I just-‘

‘You’re not being stupid. A creep broke into your house and tried to eat your liver. You get to be as scared as you want. I’ll stay the night, two against one are pretty good odds. Want me to do a perimeter check?’

She swallowed, nodded, ‘please?’

‘No problem.’

She tailed him as he checked and rechecked each window, each grate and vent, grateful when he left all the lights she had turned on alone.

After making her a mug of tea, he guided her to her bedroom, hand on her back, and sat her down, taking the small armchair in the corner of the room, ‘it’s a nice place you’ve got. I imagine rent’s not cheap.’

‘Hardly. When I was at Georgetown one of my classmates had a great aunt or something who lived here, and died here. He figured since there was still nearly a full year on the lease he’d talk to the landlord, see if they could strike up a deal that he just continues paying his aunt’s rent and they just change the name on the contract. The landlord was cool with it – my classmate, however, couldn’t sleep in the room his relative died in, said it was too spooky.’

‘Spooky, huh?’

‘Yeah. He begged a group of us to stay over one night, like for a study group thing. Everyone else agreed with him that it was a spooky place, but I don’t know. I think it’s welcoming - not that I believe in places being welcoming or anything, or ghosts. But I wasn’t as creeped out as everyone else, and he offered me the place, offered to continue paying for it and everything if I continued to pay for my dorm room and let him crash there. I figured I was getting a whole furnished apartment for the price of my cinderblock dorm room, and couldn’t really see a downside to it. Of course, when we graduated I got the lease transferred to my name – the landlord’s a pretty nice guy, not overly fussed with who he’s renting to provided they pay rent on time – it’s mostly old couples here, so I think he likes the idea of a doctor being in the building. I sublet it during basic training to a nurse I worked occasionally with during med school. I figure I didn’t have to pay for the furniture and I make enough to make rent each month and live in relative comfort, so why leave?’

‘That’s fair.’

‘What about you? What’s your place like? Other than not having a bed, of course.’

‘It’s not much. It’s got a lounge and a kitchen and a bathroom. It suits my needs. It gives the fish a place to live.’

‘You have fish?’

‘Yeah. I read a study when I was at Oxford about how owning fish could possibly lengthen the human lifespan by lowering anxiety and stress levels. So I got some fish. They give me something to talk theories through with.’

‘Do they help?’

‘Sometimes. Did you know that goldfish aren’t stupid or have short memories, they just have really short attention spans?’

‘Like you then?’

He laughed, ‘is that fair?’

‘I’d say. When it’s something that doesn’t matter, at least.’

Their back and forth questions took them halfway into the night with tame questions. That was until Mulder cleared his throat, ‘So, uh, where’d you learn to give blowjobs?’

She choked, sputtered for a moment, blinking at him for a moment, ‘you really want to know?’ she raised an eyebrow at him and he shrugged. ‘If I say catholic school, will it be too much of a cliché?’

‘Well, I mean, I’m certain it would conjure images for future ventures.’

‘I was fifteen. There was this boy I really liked. _Really liked.’_

‘Was he hot?’

‘Yeah. To fifteen year old me he was, anyway. He was twenty-four, rode a motorcycle. Real bad-boy.’

‘Twenty four?’ he cringed, ‘is this going to make me need to retroactively file a statutory rape case?’

‘No. I mean, technically, I guess, but no. I did not give my twenty-four-year-old crush a blowjob, or have sex with him or anything. I don’t actually think he knew I existed. I was this twerp with bushy hair and braces and he was Bill – my brother – he was his best friend.’

‘Wow.’

‘Mmm. Anyway, there was this group of girls I sometimes hung out with – they went to the public school, a couple of them were a few grades older – and there I was, a goofy dork with a goofy crush, asking one of the older girls what I should do about this crush I had, how to really get him to like me back.’

‘I think I get where this is going-‘

‘Well, maybe. Now, I wasn’t naïve. I knew about sex – scientifically at least. I understood the ins and outs, so to speak. I may even have walked in on my sister giving her boyfriend a blowy once. But, uh, technique-wise I needed some…guidance. One of the girls had a boyfriend who had a brother who was about my age. We were set up with a very romantic date under one of the ramps at the local skatepark.’

‘Charming.’

‘Uh-huh,’ she nodded, ‘I spent all week asking the girls for their tips and tricks. Gagged on more than one banana. Now I look back on it, I wonder if they were just doing it to try and humiliate me, or if they really wanted to help. Anyway, the day arrived, I stole Missy’s – Missy’s my sister – I stole her lowest cut top and shortest skirt and reddest lipstick because I definitely didn’t want to be on my knees in my hideous hand-me-down stripped pink polo shirt and jeans combo from three years before – these days, for practicality, I probably would have gone with the jeans to protect from scraped knees, but I was young,’ there was a quiet wistfulness about her as she recounted the memory of losing her innocence. ‘He turned up, looked as much of a nerd as I did. Looked quite nervous, too. Introduced himself by bowing.’

‘He actually bowed?’

‘Yeah,’ she laughed and nodded, covering her eyes with her hand. ‘Now, bear in mind his nervousness. Poor kid couldn’t get it up at all. And I _really_ tried. The evening ended with him having a panic attack as I tried to clean the smeared red lipstick off of him.’

‘And _that’s_ where you learned to give amazing head?’

‘No. Not that night, anyway. Two weeks later he came over and gave me a bunch of flowers, picked from one of the gardens on his way over. He kissed me whilst Missy sat on her bed across from us with her Walkman on, keeping an eye on the bedroom door. A month after that we tried again in his garage.’

‘Any luck?’

‘Well, he got it up,’ she shrugged, ‘but, uh, I had braces and… it wasn’t a comfortable experience for either of us.’

‘I can imagine.’

‘In apology, I told him I’d teach him to finger me. Told him he could develop some skills like I was for when he finally got a girlfriend. It didn’t occur to me that we spent half our weekends and evenings finding places to make out and explore one another. He was a pretty quick study. I mean, it was by no means good, we were fumbling teenagers, but it was a start. About three months after that, though, I had my braces taken off. I had also, at this point, turned sixteen. Practice became a lot easier after that.’

‘And what about the bad boy biker? Did he ever get to experience your skills?’

‘By the time I’d developed any proficiency I had very little interest in him.’

‘So it was all for nought?’

She tilted her head, ‘I’d hardly say that. You benefited from my nights of study the other week, didn’t you?’

He conceded with a smirk, shifting in his chair to try and conceal the erection he’d become aware of as she’d reminisced.

‘Have you ever faked it?’

She looked him dead in the eye. ‘Yes.’

‘Why?’

‘Because the female orgasm takes work to achieve, work that many men don’t consider needing to put in.’

‘Is it frustrating?’

‘Of course, it is. If you were to be having sex and you were halfway there, and then your partner just stopped, said “that was great” and walked out, how would you feel? You’d feel put out and frustrated. But add to that the expectation that they pleased you, too, during the process. Because without the knowledge that they did, you’re probably not getting another date, and who knows, maybe next time will be better.’

‘Why not just say?’

‘Because many men are immature. Many men think they are better in bed than they actually are. And because women have been oppressed to the point where speaking up about these things just doesn’t happen. If you do, you’re told it’s your fault, that you weren’t even that great a shag anyway. Or, you are blamed by men who are physically imposing, who you really don’t want to start a conflict with. Or you get a man who is so insecure he breaks down crying and you end up having to comfort him, blame it on having a bad day, promising it wasn’t his fault.’

‘I’d hope my partner would tell me. Do you, you know…I mean, if your hypothetical situation were true, and I were left in the lurch, so to speak, I would have to…relieve some pressure. Do you?’

‘I am quite capable of facilitating my own orgasm, yes.’

‘Show me,’ it leapt from his mouth before he even realised it. When she didn’t bat an eyelid, he did. ‘I- you don’t-‘

It was sleep deprivation, she told herself, that had her slipping her hand down to the waistband of her pyjamas.

It was the culmination of her fears of the day that had her locking eyes with him as her teeth bit down into her bottom lip and her knuckles brushed over coarse hair.

It was his intense gaze that had her gasping as she swiped at her slick folds.

Christ, the tension coiling in her gut was heavy. Before she could so much as swirl her finger around her clit Mulder was clearing his throat from his seat in the corner of the room, ‘take your pants off.’

‘Is…is this for my pleasure or yours?’ her whimper slipped from her lips, breaking eye contact to drop her head back against the headboard and shimmying her pyjama pants from her legs, kicking them to the foot of the bed.

‘Oh, this is all for you,’ the husk of his voice had her eyes slamming shut, trying her best to keep her touch feather-light, a barely-there flicking, her hips rising to meet her touch.

A moan, teeth cutting into her bottom lip as her middle finger dropped to trace up and down her slit before dipping inside, curling twice and gathering her slickness to bring back up to the bead of her clit, setting a hard and fast pace to match the increased rate of her breathing as her knees drew up and her feet scrabbled for purchase on the bed. Her free hand gravitated to her breast, pushing through her buttoned sleep shirt to pluck first at one, and then the other, nipple.

‘Come on Scully, you know what you’re doing,’ at the sound of his growl she slid two of her fingers into her cunt, fingers curling and pressing in a rhythmic pulse, the lewd sound filling the air as the heel of her palm ground down on the top of her mound, just enough stimulation to have her walls fluttering and clenching around her fingers, a cracked cry and the slip of her juices coating her thighs.

Heavy breaths filled the room as her body softened, sinking further into the bed, limp limbs and sated sighs.

She startled at the feel of a warm washcloth on her inner thighs, opening her eyes to see Mulder hovering over her, ‘hey.’

She blushed, licked her lips, ‘hey. I can do that.’

‘It’s fine,’ he shook his head, reaching up to clean her fingers, ‘I’ve got you. Sleepy?’

‘Hmm,’ a nod. ‘Was this your plan all along?’

He looked scandalised, ‘is that what you think of me?’ he gave a soft laugh, ‘you need anything?’

‘Hmm, no...’

He tucked her in with a smile, brushing back hair from her sweat-slicked skin, ‘try and get some sleep, okay? I’ll be on your couch if you need anything.’

‘Mulder?’

‘Hmm?’

‘Is this...we can’t keep doing this. And you can’t be so possessive of me.’

He nodded, dropping a kiss to her forehead, ‘I know. We’re equal now, though – we’ve both gotten off. We’ll be back to normal on Monday.’

‘Thank you.’

‘No problem. Now sleep. I’ll keep the light on in the bathroom and in the hall for you.’


End file.
